The Council of Ithilien
by ScopesMonkey
Summary: Legolas returns to Rivendell for the first time since the Council of Elrond and receives an unexpected welcome. [no slash]


**_Author's note:_ **This isn't exactly canon, so if that kind of thing bothers you, don't read it, or read it at your own risk. Fairly warned be thee, says I.

**_Disclaimer:_** I don't own Lord of the Rings or anything related to it, nor am I making any money from this.

* * *

I arrive, expecting to find the halls and glens of Rivendell deserted, left to the empty breeze and the chill mists that clung to its streams in the mornings. But not all had left their home yet, and the Council of Ithilien, called by Lord Elrond not three weeks after Aragorn was crowned King Elessar, has brought elves from all corners of this world. There are many whom I do not even recognize when I arrive in the company of the king of Gondor and his queen. There are others here that I do know. My parents, my young sister and their guard set out from Mirkwood four days past and, if they traveled with good speed, they arrived in the evening yesterday.

A squire of Gondor takes my horse as another helps the king and queen descend from their mounts. I keep a smile to myself as I wonder what Aragorn must think of this; he, a ranger from the north, being helped from his horse. I speak softly to my animal before she is led away to the generous stables of Rivendell. There are elves waiting to escort us to our chambers and men organizing our gear and horses, and I join Aragorn and Lady Arwen as Lord Elrond appears at the top of a stair on a balcony above us.

"You are most welcome in Rivendell, King Elessar," he says in his deep and vibrant voice. I look up with a smile and see the lord of Rivendell almost as a new man, without the shadows he carried in his eyes at the last council in this place, the Council of Elrond. He smiles at his daughter and the king, and then gives me a deep, courteous nod. "And you, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

I bow slightly in return as he descends the steps, coming to stand before Aragorn and Arwen.

"I must speak with you both now, for all that you have just arrived."

"It would be our pleasure," Aragorn says, ever gracious, and Arwen nods, smiling at her father, her blue eyes alight. Elrond gives a satisfied nod, then turns again to me. "I know there are those here who wait to speak to you, Legolas."

"Of course," I reply, and, in truth, I am eager to see my parents and sister again. I allow myself to be led away by a dark haired elf I do not know, following easily behind him, my feet treading the familiar hallways, my eyes sharp. The face I am looking for, the person of whom I have had no news since the start of the war, is not be see. I strain for anything, a glimpse, a hint, but there is nothing, nothing but the fragile flame of my hope. I cannot let this flame die, no matter how much it flickers and threatens to go out. I cannot.

I am given chambers of my own and informed that my parents are adjacent to me, and my sister with them. I know these rooms; I have often stayed here while visiting Rivendell. They are chambers fit for a prince, overlooking a small shaded glen with its wildflowers in the spring and trickling creek. I am left on my own and hesitate outside the open door a moment longer, listening and watching as other elves go by, waiting for some hint of recognition.

With a deep breath, I steel myself, telling myself that all is not lost, that news may yet still be traveling slowly. Elrond may have news I do not, or Galadriel, and they are both to attend the council. I will speak to them when I have a chance.

The sun streams through the high, arched windows, casting a glow across the low wooden table in the center of the room and the delicate chairs that surround them. A fireplace to my right has been stocked with wood, and there is more resting beside the hearth, although it is not yet lit, nor are the candles that hang in sconces on the walls or that rest in holders about the room. A hand-woven rug, half the size of the room itself, has been place under the furniture, and a smaller one sits in front of the fireplace, its intricate knots and weaves in green and blue an inviting place to sit in the chill hours of the evenings.

But these are not the things that capture my attention. There is a figure standing before one of the windows, her back to me, clad in a dress of the palest pink trimmed with gold the shade of her hair. The billowing sleeves of the dress open at the elbow, falling gracefully to her knees, and tighter sleeves of cream almost the colour of her skin cling to her arms. On her head rests a gold circlet, thin and delicate. I cannot see her face, and she does not turn to acknowledge me, so I am uncertain if she has even heard me enter.

"I am sorry," I say, keeping my voice soft so as not to startle her. "I did not know these chambers were occupied."

She turns slightly and I can see her face, the small smile playing on her lips, the light in her green eyes, the glint of the tiny sapphire jewel set into her circlet.

"I it is I who is the intruder," she says in a voice I have never forgotten. She turns fully away from the window now, the sun casting a halo of light around her, and there is nothing I can say for a tenuous moment as she smiles at me, not because I do not wish to, but because I cannot speak. I am aware of myself suddenly, in fine clothes of silver and blue that are nonetheless dusty from the road.

"Eleidess. Oh, my lady," I finally say. "I thought I would not ever see you again."

Her smile widens and her eyes glisten; it is only then I realize they shine from tears, not light.

"I feared the same," Eleidess, lady of Bluewood, replies, her voice lower now, softer, to hide a tremble. I stay frozen an instant longer, then cross the room in three long strides, meeting her half way, foregoing the traditional greeting of my people to pull her into my arms. She smells as I remember, the soft scent of a spring sun in an airy glen. Her arms encircle me as well, heedless of the dust on my clothing.

"I have had no news," I say as we pull apart. I search her face and find her nodding, a tear slipping down her cheek. Quickly, gently, I brush it aside.

"I know," she replies. "Legolas, I am sorry. It is not for lack of trying."

I feel myself smiling, shaking my head.

"All the silences in the world do not matter now. You are here."

Eleidess smiles back, then kisses me suddenly, surprising me for only the briefest moment. Through many a dark night, I have tried to remember what her lips tasted like, and now I find that my memory had been sorely disappointing me.

"You have come for the Council of Ithilien," she says a moment later and I nod.

"Yes. I have spoken to my father at length about it. He agrees that there should be elves in Ithilien again."

She smiles slightly and I see true joy in her eyes, a joy that has seeped into the eyes of so many recently, replacing fear and doubt.

"And who would you choose to lead them, Legolas? A Sindar prince of Mirkwood?"

"It was my thought until I saw you again. But I will not take you from your home, nor ask you to choose between your people and myself." Gently, I touch the emerald stone set in her circlet, the symbol of her father and his ancestors, the symbol of her place to rule after him.

Eleidess takes my hands in hers, looking down at them a moment, then back into my eyes. She smiles again, only this time, it is tinged with sadness.

"I have come to this council to speak for the people of Bluewood, the Eleidrìm," she says. The word surprises me and she sees it in my face, in my eyes, for she nods. "My parents ride to the Grey Havens as we speak, Legolas. Those who stay behind are now my people. But we can no more live in Bluewood now than we could live in Mordor. The forest was put to torch by the Urukai. We fled before the flames, and there are some who did not survive, but those who did no longer have a home. We stayed in Lothlorien for a time, but I cannot keep my people there, even after the lady Galadriel decides to sail. Her presence will always linger, whether by her will or no, and we cannot live in a place haunted such."

I hold her hands tightly, stunned and saddened by the news she has given me. Her forest burnt, her people without a home, all of their hopes and fears placed upon her. When last I saw her, she was an heir unencumbered by responsibility, happy in her home and with her people.

The skin on the palm of her right hand is uneven under my fingers and I frown, turning her hand over gently to see the pale skin of a thin scar disappearing under her cream sleeve.

"I am afraid I am not as whole as I was when last you saw me," Eleidess says in a quiet voice.

"The fire?" I asked, struggling to believe that she has been scarred so, fighting down anger at those who did this to her.

"No," she says softly. "An orc. In battle."

I raise my head sharply, searching her green eyes.

"A battle? When? Where?"

Another fleeting smile, and a soft kiss before she replies:

"At Helm's Deep."

"You were there?" I ask, shaken.

"Yes. We had fled Bluewood by then, and had taken shelter with Galadriel and her kin. When the call came for an army to honour the old alliances, I took up my bow and my knives for my people. The orcs had driven us from our home and hunted us like animals for sport until we reached the shelter of Lothlorien."

I shake my head, still shocked.

"I did not see you, Eleidess" I say in a whisper.

"I know," she replies softly. "But what time was there, Legolas? I saw you greet Haldir when we arrived. It was enough for me to see you alive and whole. Hanithir tells me he saw you afterwards, riding with the white wizard and King Theoden."

Hanithir, her brother, so alike to Eleidess in colouring and expression that I mistook them for twins when I first met them.

"You were injured in the battle," I say.

"Yes." Eleidess draws her hands away from mine and gently pulls back the cream coloured sleeve, revealing a thin pale scar tracing the fine skin on her forearm, up to her elbow. "An orc blade. It was coated in poison, which is why I still bear the scar."

"And the orc that did this?" I demand.

"I cut him down with my the knife in my left hand," she replies.

I can see it so clearly in my mind, in the rain and torch light and darkness, her bow slung once more across her back, her knives out, catching the inconsistent light from the fires. Her dark cloak and clothing wet and muddy, her blond hair plastered to her face and clothing, soaked with the rain, droplets spraying as she moves. Her face and hands smeared with blood and mud, turned from their ivory softness to a warrior's colouring. An orc, slashing at her with a poisoned blade, Eleidess catching the blade in her right hand, holding tight and yelling as she steps forward to cut his throat with the knife held in her left hand. I see this in my mind, and know it for truth.

"This is a mark of bravery and love for your people," I say. "It does not make you any less whole."

Eleidess smiles at me, her face bright. I take her hands again, holding them tightly.

"It is probably for the best I did not see you injured at Helm's Deep," I admitted. "I do not believe I would have left if I had known."

She nods, squeezing my hands in return.

"I do not think I could have let you leave," she replies. "But you had a duty to King Elessar and to Frodo. It would only have been selfish of me to keep you."

I pull her into another embrace.

"But now I do not intend to leave you again," I say and feel her smiling against my cheek.

"Then you would welcome us in Ithilien?" she asks. I pull away from her and take her face in my hands for a moment.

"If I am Ithilien's lord, I can think of none better to serve as its lady," I reply.

Eleidess kisses me again, still smiling.

"Then the Council of Ithilien will begin with its lord and lady already decided," she says.

"I think this may be what Elrond intended," I say. "I do not believe that anyone means the Eleidrìm to be without a home, nor for me to return silently to Mirkwood and live again under the rule of my father while Ithilien stays empty."

Eleidess takes my hands, her eyes and face alight.

"Then come, let us go together to the Council as equals to the lords here and to speak for the new home of our people."


End file.
